


the cage is a phoenix

by johntography



Category: Monsta X (Band)
Genre: Emotional Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Reunions
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-01
Updated: 2017-05-01
Packaged: 2018-10-24 10:21:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,233
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10739733
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/johntography/pseuds/johntography
Summary: “I don’t think you should askmehow you feel. You’re the one who left.“This is what happens when high school sweethearts fall apart, but the need for closure continues ghosting around.





	the cage is a phoenix

**Author's Note:**

> warnings for: one (1) mention of drugs, implied past alcohol abuse and a good couple of swear words because i wanted to write like a Grown Up for once

 

 

 

“We never did need drugs, did we.“

Hyunwoo does not answer.

His full, plump lips are sewed shut in a pout that has barely made place for a smile since yesterday, and slowly but surely Kihyun thinks he can’t stand seeing it anymore. The memories of the way it felt to hold Hyunwoo’s face in his hands as it gradually, and then all at once, brightened up, crinkled and wrinkled in happiness, wash over Kihyun in waves powerful enough to bring him to his knees. Every heartbeat is laced with a shock of pain when he looks at the person he used to share everything with.

He thinks this might have been how Hyunwoo felt. When he left.

That realization only makes the lump in his throat worse.

“I think,“ Hyunwoo says, voice rough, as if he hadn’t used it in light years. He clears his throat. “I think you should leave me alone.“

Something in Kihyun’s chest freezes and falls to pieces, or disappears from existence altogether, because he suddenly feels hollow, like a tree rotting slowly.

“Hyung,“ he whispers, and almost wants to laugh at how his voice sounds as it cracks; whiny in ways Hyunwoo could never find attractive anymore. “You don’t mean that.“

Kihyun watches the elder’s tongue roll against the inside of his cheek, his breathing speeding up with every second of silence.

Then, finally: “You didn’t mean a lot of things, either. It still got us in a good place.“

“A good place, what do you— I’m not good without you,“ Kihyun retorts quickly, his eyebrows knitted and his forehead, invisible underneath his dark brown bangs, wrinkling in controlled panic.

Hyunwoo nods, once, twice. They are still entirely too close to have this kind of conversation: Kihyun is almost tucked into the warmth of his open jacket, Hyunwoo’s left thigh is caging Kihyun in.

Neither is pulling away.

There’s a bitingly cold breeze that comes from when the door opens to let in more guests, but Kihyun gladly lets it raise goosebumps on the exposed skin of his arms. Lets himself be an irresponsible dumbass who doesn’t know how to dress accordingly to the weather, because he’s done plenty of irresponsible things since they broke up, anyway.

Hyunwoo exhales something that might be a sigh, but Kihyun doesn’t trust his judgement anymore.

Not when he called Jooheon up to ask where he can find Hyunwoo, expecting to show up and continue where they left off. That was a fucking stupid assumption to make. But once Kihyun is set on something, there is no way back. He has to do this right, rather than live a life of regrets and fantasies of renewed domesticity, sleepy kisses on the shoulder in gratitude for breakfast, steady reassurances after a long day—

“That might have been good to hear, back then,“ Hyunwoo says in that deep, serious voice Kihyun would always make fun of.

It’s not fun now, hearing him speak of their shared life in past tense, like it’s his least favorite chapter of an old, dusty book he has long since turned his back on.

It _hurts_. It’s been hurting ever since Kihyun came back home, ever since the constant presence of something mind-numbing has washed out and Hoseok sat him down to ask a simple question: _What the hell are you planning to do with your life_? The part where he can’t go on like this, living in kaleidoscopic motives and unnaturally bright colors and off the money his parents left behind and his friends loaned him as he insisted that he found a job, he just needs to get by until then.

There is nothing Kihyun hates more than feeling small, insignificant. (That’s why he fled.) But if it takes that to admit that he was childish, that he had the luck to be with the boy — the man — who has been by his side since middle school, through his family’s harsh expectations, through being ashamed of looking at broad shoulders and narrow hips, through crying at graduation because he was signed up for a path he didn’t want to take, through distance by mind but not by heart, through waiting to realize that the closeness they shared can be finally given a name, through Kihyun’s breakdowns about his job and about himself—

And he gave it all away. For the fleeting rush of freedom, of not having to think of anybody but himself for once, of being able to make bad decisions and drink the regret away.

It catches up to you anyway, sooner rather than later.

Kihyun swallows bitterly, and the more he looks at Hyunwoo’s stony profile, the more he realizes how little of a right he has to drop any of this on him _now_. A year later, when he must have already moved on, found someone else to hold tight and laugh at unfunny jokes with and confess his fears to. (Because where Kihyun was afraid to be weak, Hyunwoo was not used to being vulnerable. They made each other more comfortable in that sense.)

“Back then,“ Kihyun says, no longer trying to seek out Hyunwoo’s eyes, but looking down, onto his chest.

“I did a lot of things wrong.“

He doesn’t see it now, but Hyunwoo looks at him with glazed over eyes.

“I forgave you a long time ago, if that’s what you wanted to hear.“

“I don’t want to hear anything you don't… I want us to be honest with each other,“ Kihyun amends, working around the word _mean._

Hyunwoo sighs, for real this time, and when Kihyun looks up at him, the outer corners of his eyes glisten, though his face expression is as calm as ever.

“Did you ever love me in that way?“ he asks, straightforward as ever.

Kihyun holds his gaze, ignoring the prickling in his chest and the heat that rises in his cheeks at how good it feels to have Hyunwoo’s attention, to know his dark eyes are looking at him, waiting for him. He focuses on sorting out all the thought processes he’s gone through this past month, putting them into unmistakable shells that he can fill with emotion later.

“I loved you in every way,“ Kihyun replies, then. “But I don’t think I was ready for it.“

Hyunwoo scoffs, but the look in his eyes doesn’t change. Kihyun’s heart beats irregularily nevertheless.

“We’re not ever really ready for anything, Kihyun-ssi,“ he murmurs, almost to himself, looking away, and the honorific burns Kihyun’s throat the way alcohol never could.

“You’re right,“ Kihyun nods, the corners of his mouth turning down against his will because he just feels so powerless and hopeless.

“But I think this was a long time coming. I had to try and catch up on all the things I missed when we were young, and realize how stupid and meaningless all of it is.“

“I held you back,“ Hyunwoo says, and it’s not a question. “So why are you here now?“

“You— what are you talking about? Do you really believe that’s how I see you? Somebody I’m mad at because he prevented me from letting my life spiral out of control?“

“I don’t think you should ask _me_ how you feel. You’re the one who left.“

And if the words weren’t enough, Kihyun can feel the miniscule movements of Hyunwoo pulling away, putting distance between them, and it honestly makes him freak out.

“Look, listen, I— I know how I feel. I know that I left you, the only person whom I would truly do anything for, and that I was an asshole for doing it. Still am an asshole, because if I know anything about you at all, it’s that you accepted the blame I pushed onto you and have held onto it until now. And I hate myself for it. I hate myself for leaving you behind like that, because as much as I don’t want to admit it, you deserve somebody who will put you before himself and I couldn’t do that.“

Kihyun vaguely notices how the consonants mold together as his tongue grows heavier, how his voice becomes more nasal because the lump in his throat is so big it hurts to speak around it.

How his sight begins to swim, the silhouette of Hyunwoo’s tan, beautiful face dissolving into browns and beiges. It’s almost easier this way.

But before he can say anything more, the colors shake from left to right like drops of aquarell sliding down the paper.

“I never asked you to put yourself before me,“ Hyunwoo says, and his voice grows in volume to make place for his disbelief. “I always wanted you to do well, didn’t I? And you wanted the same for me, all the times you pushed me to try something new, even when I threatened that I would stop talking to you because of it, remember? And how you always told me that all the _I told you so'_ s wouldn’t make up for how happy you are to see me grow.“

Kihyun begins to see clearer, begins to make out Hyunwoo’s wide eyes and shaking hands. Before he can ask himself how that is possible, he feels something warm slide down his cheekbone, slowly, then all the way down to his chin where he wipes it away.

“I felt the same way about you, always have. I would rather leave than make you give something up. But there is one thing I didn’t understand. One thing that made it so hard for me to come to terms with the fact that you were suddenly not there anymore,“ Hyunwoo says, quieter again, but also higher in pitch, his eyebrows knitted, like he’s in pain.

“Why did you give up, Kihyunnie?“ he asks, and a tear escapes one of his eyes, too. “Why couldn’t you let me be there for you?“

Kihyun presses a hand over his mouth, so tight that his fingernails turn white. His hollow chest feels like it’s collapsing on itself, like his entire body is a building that has been on fire for so long it’s unsafe to be anywhere near it. Like his entire skeleton is rotten and is weighing him down, rendering him unable to escape, only letting more and more hot tears leave their tracks in the desert dust of his cheeks. (The dust where once upon a time dimples appeared when he woke up to Hyunwoo’s half opened eyes and lack of shirt in the morning.)

“I,“ Kihyun tries, but his voice fails him, already gone with the other escapees of his wildfire.

He leans back against the wall, holding his head up in a futile attempt to stop the tears and get his shit together, but he sees Hyunwoo before him, not any better off with his pressed together lips and quiet whimpers.

“Kihyun,“ he hisses through them, his chest heaving, but his hands unmoving, letting the tear tracks dry on his own. “There— there are things I needed to hear then.“

“Mhm,“ Kihyun manages, his chin still shaking.

“This,“ Hyunwoo says, clearing his throat wetly, “this is something I need to hear now. Please?“

Kihyun nods desperately, wiping under his eyes, brain on overdrive to come up with something that could even remotely sooth the hurt he inflicted on his best friend, his soulmate. He wants to scream about how much he loves him, about how much he’s been missing him, about how he has seen and heard and talked to and fucked so many people in this year, but nobody could even come close to his stoic, goofy, earnest Hyunwoo.

How the thought that he might have been replaced already made him want to curl up and tear himself to pieces, because anything of his that people categorize as heart or soul can never be whole again, anyway.

But none of this is what Hyunwoo needs. None of this will help him move on and continue building his life on the abandoned ruins that Kihyun turned their relationship to. He doesn’t know if there is anything good that he can offer him now, at all, and it’s so frustrating that he can feel the tears begin to swell all over again.

“I was a coward,“ Kihyun says, looking right at Hyunwoo, standing up straight from where he was leaning against the wall. “I was a coward, and an idiot, and such a huge fuck-up that I thought you would be better off without— without the nagging mess that I am. Without the fact that I was too fucking much of a wuss to quit the job that made me suffer and let it out on you because it’s the only thing that I have that reminds me of my parents.

“I spent all of their money months ago. I hope whoever is looking after their graves isn’t too freaked out by them rolling around,“ Kihyun laughs bitterly, sniffling, and Hyunwoo laughs with him, even though it’s not funny at all, but they’ve always laughed at the same things.

“And I should have known that running away wouldn’t make anything any better. That it doesn’t solve problems, but only causes more. That I should’ve taken you so much more into consideration when I decided to go, because God knows you deserved it after all that you have done for me and with how much you matter to me. With how I can’t live without you, really,“ Kihyun’s voice cracks again.

“Maybe you can, without me. And maybe I should let you. But I’ve been trying so hard to get my life back on track ever since I came back. I work several jobs, I’m clean — no relapses, no exceptions — I don’t sleep a lot, but that’s okay. And if you reject me, if you tell me you don’t ever want to see my mug ever again, that won’t change. I won’t quit.“

Hyunwoo’s eyes are the brightest Kihyun’s ever seen them these few days, the closest to the eyesmile he remembers.

“But I want to have you in my life. I can’t give up as easily as I did a year ago. If you tell me no, I’ll listen.

“If you tell me you need space, I’ll give you as much as you need.

“But I don’t want to live knowing I could have seen your face and heard your voice again, and then decided in your place once more. I think— I think we deserve a chance, at least. A chance to get to know each other again. A chance to talk it out and get the closure we need.“

Kihyun licks over his dry lips, and thinks he can taste sand in their saltiness. Maybe he made it out of the fire. Maybe he didn’t.

Hyunwoo is looking down at the floor, for a minute, two, and Kihyun thinks he overloaded him.

God, if he fucked this up— he’s going to have to deal with it, somehow, but he wishes so badly that he won’t have to. That he can at least see Hyunwoo from time to time, know that he’s doing okay, be of assistance somehow, if he needs it.

Because if anything else goes wrong, all that Kihyun needs is to know that Hyunwoo is happy. With or without him, that comes second.

He just wants him to get all the good things he deserves and then some. If he knows that is the case, he can start to heal.

He can begin to forgive himself, bit by bit.

“I’m gonna let you think about it,“ Kihyun says softly. “No rush. You still have Hoseok’s number,“ and turns around to get his coat from the hanger, when a hand wraps around his wrist in a shaky, but strong grip.

“No, wait— don’t,“ Hyunwoo says, sounding much more like himself, but still not looking up.

And he doesn’t, because he closes his eyes instead.

His hand moves slowly from Kihyun’s wrist up his arm. He can feel Hyunwoo’s big, warm fingers through the thin material of his shirt as he maps out the crook of his elbow. It burns, and Kihyun feels lightheaded and dizzy in a way that makes his broken bones feel at peace. He can feel them slide up to his upper arm, digging into soft muscle just the slightest amount. It reminds Kihyun of how he would hang off Hyunwoo’s biceps, kneading and slapping it however he wanted, and Hyunwoo would let him, no questions asked.

Then there’s another hand on his left shoulder, not doing much, just resting there. But it makes Kihyun’s muscle memory black out for a second. Makes him forget how to breathe. Hyunwoo’s right hand moves to the back of Kihyun’s head, so gentle— no, not gentle, it’s shy and unsure and Kihyun’s eyes prickle at the thought of how much of their trust and comfort he destroyed. How he can’t go back in time and rebuild it.

But then Hyunwoo meets his eyes, brown on brown, memories of all their firsts flickering in them, and the fingers on Kihyun’s head twitch ever so lightly, but it’s enough to get the message across.

When they hug, it’s tight and almost painful and it doesn’t magically make everything okay again, but it feels good. It feels good to just stand there and feel each other’s heartbeats, the shapes of their bodies pressed together in a manner that is as unfamiliar as as it is like riding a bike after years of no practice. As it would be for Hyunwoo to jump into water even though he neglected swimming since college, or for Kihyun to hold a guitar in his hands again, fingers awkward until they’re not. Kihyun buries his head in Hyunwoo’s chest that is as sturdy as ever, though a lot softer than he remembers; Hyunwoo breathes into the crown of Kihyun’s head, and his hair feels a lot smoother than it did even months after he stopped bleaching it.

They break their embrace because the event must have ended and people begin trickling out to the wardrobe, pushing past them with sharp elbows and blunt noise. Hyunwoo came here with one of his old friends from college, Hoseok told him, and Kihyun is not ready to face neither Jinyoung nor Jaebum just yet. They need a bit of space now, anyway.

“I’ll call you,“ Hyunwoo says in his ear (whisper doesn’t quite qualify) and exhales breathily, his eyes wrinkling in something akin to fondness. Kihyun doesn’t even try to hold back his grin, although he’s still too shaken up to really beam.

Their hands intertwine one last time, when Kihyun asks: “Promise?“

“I can’t tell you when,“ this is the honesty he asked for and the space he offered, “but yes. You can count on it.“

“Good,“ Kihyun squeezes his hand and lets go, easier than expected, because he has faith that Hyunwoo means it. And he has faith that they can make it.

When Kihyun has his coat on, he turns around briefly, just to see if Hyunwoo has gone off to search for his friend yet.

He hasn’t. They lock eyes, and a year ago, this would have been the moment when they’d mouth _I love you_ across the room, because they were sappy like that.

Kihyun smiles something shy.

Hyunwoo lifts his hand to wave an _I’ll see you soon,_ instead.


End file.
